Faster (Stark Ink, #3) (31 page)

She was a little afraid of them, to be honest.

“I... I thought there was something wrong with me. And that was why she left me. Like she could see something in me that was bad or just not right. Not normal. And then the Starks adopted me, and I
wasn’t
normal. I climbed trees and ripped my tights and kicked the pews in church.

“I always thought that the Starks had lost their real daughter, Ashley, and adopted me to take her place. That’s how I remembered it. Or I guess I don’t remember it. I just misunderstood. So, my whole life I thought that I was a second-rate replacement for the kid they’d rather have. But before I left, Adam told me I was first.

“They adopted me first, and then Mom got pregnant with Ashley. I... I wasn’t just their second choice. When Mom had the miscarriage, a neighbor had to take care of me for a little bit. I thought they were sending me to live with her forever. I thought they didn’t love me anymore. I thought no one could love me.

“So, I tried to be what I thought everyone wanted. Pop loved the boys, so with him I was a boy. Mom liked dresses and patent-leather shoes, so for her I was a girl. I thought I could be everything. Turns out I was nothing.”

Emilio reached out and took hold of her chin, forcing her gaze to his. “I don’t want to hear that. I’ll listen to anything else, Ava, anything you need to tell me, but I won’t hear that. I won’t. You have a family and friends who love you, who’d do anything for you. ‘Nothing’ is not a word that can ever be used to describe you. You’re not like any girl I’ve ever met before. So what if you’re not
normal
. Fuck normal. You’re
mine
and that’s
all
I care about.”

There was a sudden knock at the front door. Emilio cursed under his breath.

“We’re not done,” he told her, getting up from the couch.

Ava knew he meant more than just the conversation.

E
milio cursed and eased open the door, but with the chain still on. “Look,” he began angrily. A loud crack sounded as the door thrust inward and the wooden frame splintered where the chain was attached. Or used to be.

Ava cried out in surprise as Emilio tumbled backward. Looming in the doorway was Clint, already lifting a wooden baseball bat, and rushing inside the house.

Ava sprinted to the couch, swept up her helmet with her right hand and launched herself at her ex. Her arm made a wide arc, just as Clint made one of his own. She connected first, thankfully. The solid fiberglass of her helmet smashed the bridge of his nose with a sickening crunch. Blood misted.

The bat’s trajectory was thrown off by more than a little. Instead of coming down on Emilio’s head, it ricocheted off his arm, just above the elbow. Emilio gave a loud grunt as it landed, but it was nearly drowned out by Clint’s bellowing.

Clint abandoned the bat in favor of his nose and Ava raised her foot, delivering a kick that sent him sailing into the wall. Before she could advance on him, she got hit from behind, though. The full force of someone’s weight barreling down on her sent her sprawling.

Emilio was on his feet in less than a second. He grabbed the first Tweedle by the hair and slammed his face into the damaged doorframe. She heard the sound of blows landing, all in quick succession, and she knew it was Emilio doing the hitting. The punches were delivered in a flurry, too fast for it to be the work of one of the mouth-breathers.

As Ava jumped to her feet, she glimpsed Emilio making short work of his opponent with a combination and fury that would inspire even Jonah.

Clint had one hand over his nose and was reaching for Emilio with the other. The bat lay at his feet, abandoned, momentarily forgotten.

Ava jumped forward again and punched him in the back of the head. As he reeled, she scooped up the bat, wound up, and swung it down at a sharp angle. There was another loud crack, one that rivaled the kicked-in door, as it slammed into Clint’s right knee.

He screamed, a throaty, high-pitched shriek that Ava had never heard a
girl
make, let alone a guy.

Clint limped outside, tripping over himself. Emilio and the Tweedles had already moved their fight outside, if you could call it that. One was down on the ground, rolling in the grass. Emilio threw a right hook into the jaw of the other. Even the two of them together posed little threat. The muscles of Emilio’s arms and shoulders rippled as he ducked, for no apparent reason, then threw out another punch.

Ava couldn’t help but laugh.

The Tweedle left standing had been reduced to the wheezing equivalent of a work-out dummy. He was so clearly overmatched that it was comical.

Ava turned her attention back to Clint and she stalked him across the lawn. He made it to his bike, parked at the curb, and turned to face her. Ava raised the bat like a club. Clint’s hands flew in every direction, unable to decide whether he wanted to protect his head or his balls. He settled on both, striking an awkward pose with his knees locked together, hips turned away, and jazz-hands covering his already-battered face.

Ava paid him no mind and landed her blow anyway. There was a sharp crunch as she smashed the headlight of his BMW.

“Hey!” Clint rasped and leaped forward at her.

Ava squeezed the handle of the bat with her right hand and snatched up the top with her left. She cross-checked Clint across the chest, sending him backward onto the pavement. He popped up quickly, his broken nose seemingly forgotten.

He reached into his jeans pocket and drew out a switchblade. It glinted in the moonlight. Ava, undaunted, tightened her grip on the Slugger. Clint took a menacing step toward her, but the unmistakable rack of a shotgun cut through the night air.

All heads turned to see a tiny blonde, barefoot, standing on the sidewalk. “Drop it,” Daisy ordered, nodding at the knife, “and take the ass-kicking you deserve. I got a feeling she ain’t done with you.”

Daisy grinned at Ava and Ava nodded back. She took a step forward but felt a pair of strong arms snaking around her waist.

Before her instinct to fight kicked in again, she felt lips against the side of her head and Emilio’s rough, low voice in her ear. “Easy, muñeca. That’s assault with a deadly weapon. Doc might not even be able to get you out of that one.” He lifted one hand from her belly and encircled the bat with it.

She let go as he took it from her.

He stepped to the side, turning, and taking her with him. From this angle, they had eyes on all three of them, though Daisy had them all covered herself. Only Clint had managed to get to his feet. The other two were still struggling on the lawn.

Emilio didn’t push her behind him or out of the way. He held her tightly to him and raised the bat to point it at Clint.

“You’d better run,” Emilio told him calmly.

Clint stared at them, bewildered. “No one’s answering their phones. Not Candy. Not Haze.
Nobody.
I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but I know whatever it is, it’s your fault!”

“Your friends are done,” Emilio informed him. “The Buzzards are over.”

“Bullshit,” Clint spat. “That’s not true.” He raised his eyes to Ava. His hatred seethed. “I knew we couldn’t trust you! I
told
them that! But they wouldn’t listen. You’re such a cunt!”

Ava tried to rush at him, but Emilio held her in place with just one arm. “Get out,” he ordered. “Out of my place, out of the city, too. RCPD’s got to be looking for you by now. Better get out of town, if you still can.”

They stood their ground, watching the trio roll as fast as they could out of the neighborhood. Given the damage Ava and Emilio had dished out, it turned out it wasn’t very fast. When Emilio was satisfied they were gone, he released his grip from around her waist.

Daisy grinned at them. “Y’all throw a hell of a party. Invite me next time so I don’t have to crash.” Her grin faded, though, and she looked at Ava. “Does Adam know where you are?”

Ava shook her head, feeling the flood of guilt once more.

“Don’t you think it’s time you went home?” asked Daisy quietly.

Ava looked up at the moon and then back down to the woman who could have been a slightly older version of herself. Her very own older sister, alive and right in front of her. “I will in the morning,” she replied, thinking of Pop and how it wasn’t good for him to get off his sleep schedule.

“That’s good.”

Ava nodded. Daisy was right.

It was time.

A
s Emilio pulled up to the house, Ava recognized all the cars parked out front and groaned inwardly. Just because she had to do this, didn’t make it any easier. Shooter Sullivan’s truck was there, as well as Calla’s Mustang and even Zoey’s Mercedes. She felt a fresh pang of guilt that they might have to postpone their respective honeymoons.

Emilio solemnly held the door for her. He looked as though he were attending a funeral, and for all Ava knew, he
was
. In the living room, they were all gathered. Sullivan and the man they referred to as Doc. Pop, Adam, and Dalton. Even Jonah was there. Calla and Zoey were crying and that made Ava feel the worst.

Pop was up off his chair before the front door even closed behind her. His stride was quick and nimble even for his age as he skirted the coffee table and charged toward her.

Ava raised her chin. Not in defiance, but prepared to take the blow. Take it like a Stark. The old man had never raised his hand to her in all her life. Until now, she supposed, he’d never had a reason good enough. She closed her eyes and held her breath.

Don’t cry.

He pulled her forward, though, instead of hitting her and sending her flying. His large arms wrapped around her in a fierce hug. “Oh, I could break your legs!” he growled, squeezing her tightly. “I could just break your fucking legs so you never leave the house!”

He pushed her back, holding onto her shoulders, and studied her intently. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you? Did they
hurt
you?”

Despite her earlier admonition to herself, tears sprang up and welled in her eyes. She shook her head. “No. They didn’t. They
said
they would, but they didn’t. Then they said they’d hurt
you
. All of you. They knew where I lived, they knew all about us.” Her eyes landed on Adam, because he was the one they’d mentioned first. “But they didn’t say how.”

Shooter and Doc maintained a respectful silence as Adam’s brow wrinkled. “I guess this is my fault,” he finally said.

Pop let go of Ava and turned to face his oldest son. “You? How’s it your fault?”

Ava watched as Adam swallowed hard, the lump in his throat bobbing as he did so. Even twice as old as she was, he didn’t want to disappoint the old man.

“It started with me,” Adam replied quietly. “I couldn’t get a loan to open the shop. Not from a bank. So, I borrowed the start-up cash from Jack Prior.”

Pop rubbed his scruffy face. “Jesus Christ.”

Ava gasped. She could hardly believe that Stark Ink was funded by the Badlands Buzzards, that they were associated with that kind of filth
voluntarily
. “They’re drug dealers!” she protested.

Adam winced. “It wasn’t my finest hour, Ava. I was desperate. I didn’t know what else to do. I’ve always regretted it.”

Dalton cleared his throat. “I borrowed money from them, too,” he admitted. “Back when I was drinking. It’s... it’s why Adam lost his first bike. He sold it to pay my debt.” He sighed heavily as Zoey patted his thigh to comfort him. “None of us are exactly innocent in this family.”

Ava looked over the solemn faces of her family and finally to Shooter Sullivan, who stood in the corner but somehow managed to take up half the living room. “So, what’s going to happen? Where’s my bike? Where’s Hook?”

“Here,” he said, raising his hand. “It’s on again anyway.”

Ava realized he had the remote control to the television in his hand. He unmuted the news program that she hadn’t even noticed was playing. On the screen, a haggard-looking reporter stood in the middle of a street that Ava recognized. Behind her stood the warehouse where they had dismantled her bike. The building was now cordoned off with police tape and blocked by RCPD squad cars as well as several unmarked, black sedans.

“In a highly coordinated, pre-dawn raid right here in downtown Rapid City, a local motorcycle gang known as the Badlands Buzzards was surprised with no-knock warrants in multiple locations throughout the city. A joint team of Rapid City Police and federal law enforcement responsible for dozens of, as yet, unconfirmed arrests. 

“Sources close to the investigation say that the DEA has been investigating the gang for over a year after the former president of the gang, Jack Prior, alias Preacher, went missing. He is presumed dead and his murder is among the list of charges that range from pandering to international drug trafficking. We’ll keep you informed here at Channel Five News as this massive story unfolds.”

Shooter muted the television again and handed Adam back the remote.

Ava stared dumbly at the brightly lit screen. “DEA?” she whispered.

Doc nodded. “They’ve been building a case for a while now. Not many people know about it since a good portion of RCPD is on the Buzzards’ payroll. The feds couldn’t afford to tip them off too early.”

Ava recalled Haze telling her that the local cops couldn’t be trusted. It seemed he had been telling the truth.

“They aren’t too happy with me,” Doc informed them. “They weren’t ready to close in. God knows what they were waiting for; every day they were out on the street was a day they fucked up this town just a little bit more. I’m not sure how taking thousands of photos while sitting with their thumbs up their asses was actually in their job description.”

“Photos?” Ava gasped.

He looked at her darkly. “They have surveillance set up all over town. At their clubhouse, at the Rainbow Motel... at the warehouse where you were. They have photos of you coming and going.”

“Oh, God!” Calla wailed.

“It’s not as bad as it sounds,” Doc assured everyone. “She’s a kid, not a hardened criminal. They’re not inclined to lock her up. But I won’t lie,” he told Ava directly, “it’s not over and it’s not going to be easy. You’ll need to go downtown, make statements—a lot of statements—to a lot of people.